Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77359 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77359 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
His tongue pushed at my lips, seeking entrance to my mouth. When I relented, he wasted no time exploring. Tasting. Claiming.
That was the word. That’s what it felt like. Like he was claiming me.
His knee slid between my thighs, spreading them. He pushed it up against my slit, and even with the blanket, the way he pressed against me made me moan. I writhed under him as he ravished my mouth and smashed his chest against mine.
Oh God. This was too much. And not enough. And I didn’t know what it meant, but I didn’t care. I ground myself against his knee and the friction was so good I almost felt like I could orgasm from that alone.
He bruised my lips and I groaned against his mouth. When he pulled back, he bit my lower lip—which hurt but also made tendrils of desire snake down my body.
And then his weight lifted, and he lifted himself off me. Just like that, all the sensations were gone. Blood pounded between my legs, and I wanted so badly to come. My hands felt too loose after being pinned down for that long. And my lips felt puffy and swollen.
Was that really all he was going to do? At that moment, I wanted him so badly. Every cell in my body craved more of his touch. But he’d already rolled onto his side, facing away from me.
After that, I really couldn’t sleep. Every time I tried, I’d recall the sensation of him being on top of me. Claiming me.
And then he’d just stopped, leaving me yearning, unsatisfied, and craving more.
It was a long time before my eyes closed.
18
LEILA
I awoke, feeling that something was different, but I didn’t know what. Blinking in the soft morning light, I noticed my surroundings first. Instead of the walls of my tiny room being a few feet away, I was in a much bigger space.
Oh yeah. Massimo’s room.
I had my back to the center of the bed, but the mattress sloped downward gently, suggesting that I wasn’t alone. After a moment, my racing mind settled enough for me to hear his steady breathing.
Was he awake? Usually he was up earlier than me unless I got up in the middle of the night.
Trying not to jostle the bed, I rolled over.
And there he was. On his back. His ripped chest bare and on display, a wadded sheet covering his crotch and legs. Well, one leg. The other was uncovered, and I couldn’t help staring at his muscular thigh. It was almost as big as my waist.
His eyes were closed, and his breathing even, but I wasn’t certain he was asleep. Sometimes, when I thought he was, I’d turn around and catch him watching me.
But when he didn’t move, didn’t do anything out of the ordinary, it seemed clear that it was my turn to watch him.
I’d never had a chance to examine his tattoos closely. A lot of my father’s men had them, so I was used to seeing ink at a man’s throat or when he rolled up his sleeves.
Massimo had a few small tattoos on the arm that was nearest me. They seemed to be just decorative. Swirls, and shapes. One swirl almost looked like the letter C. For his late mother? I couldn’t remember what her first name was, though. One side of his chest was bare, but the other side was covered in an intricate circular pattern. Then the ink continued onto his shoulder and across his bicep.
It suited him. The ink was black and dark, not faded the way some tattoos were. It emphasized his dark hair and the stubble along his jawline. Part of me wanted to touch a tattoo, to see if it felt raised or just like normal skin. Then again, if I had the opportunity to touch him, what I really wanted to do was to glide my hand over his abs. I couldn’t stop staring at them. They were just so well-defined. So taut. I couldn’t imagine him ever getting a beer belly when he got older.
The ache was strong, but I kept my hands to myself. Which, when you thought about it, was pretty sad. This man was my fiancé. We’d be married in a month’s time. And we’d shared a bed—yet I didn’t feel I could touch him.
Not that he’d made much of an effort to touch me. Well, there was that spanking, but that had been about discipline. Or at least it had started that way. My hips rolled as I remembered how it had ended.
And he’d kissed me last night, but that hadn’t felt like it was for pleasure either, mine or his. It was more like he’d been reminding me whose fiancée I was.
Like I could ever forget.
Just as I’d decided to try to ease out of bed without waking Massimo, he let out a loud breath and his eyes opened. He stared at the ceiling for a moment and then his head turned, his eyes meeting mine. There was no surprise there, not like how I’d initially forgotten I was in his bed. He’d known I was here.